


A Spark in the Darkness

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Series: The Cahill Project [31]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Grimm (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bingo, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, The Cahill Project, The Grimm Truth, Trinity of Trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:28:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: Grant takes care of Dacia





	A Spark in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally hold with "triggers" or "warnings" but in this case, I will note there is a reference (NOTHING EXPLICIT) to the past sexual abuse of a minor.
> 
> Takes place on May 6, 2011
> 
> Bingo fills:  
> Bad Things Happen Square: Tied to a Pole  
> Good Things Happen Square: Comfort from a Nightmare  
> GT Square: Napping Together

Dacia found the whole situation funny – a lot funnier than Grant did. Vincent hadn’t been kidding about assigning her to watch over him during her ‘punishment’ after the whole sneaking around thing, but she never counted time with her adopted big brother to be a punishment. And Grant **knew** that – so he protested having a babysitter. Vincent ignored him and she just giggled over the whole thing. Grant had come around though – especially when she started with commentary on some of the agents who came to visit or on the rabbits in Medical. 

Though she wasn’t sure about Vika’s opinion of her being around and distracting him.

Still, she wouldn’t be cluttering up the offices too much longer. Vincent began to talk about Grant going back to full duty even though no one seemed to want to sign off on it. Which she got – who wanted to put him back in the hands of that asshole Garrett? Marina all but steamed when the name came up. Dacia offered to tear his throat out.

Too bad nobody took her up on it.

For now, she spent her afternoons doing homework as Grant worked on whatever to-do list Vika had created for the day. “I hate Latin,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t I just take German or something? Russian, ASL?”

“Don’t you think that would be cheating?” Grant asked, not looking up from the file on his desk. “Since you’re learning those anyway?”

“Pretty sure my teachers don’t count cursing as learning a language,” she shot back. “So you can’t count Russian.”

“German?”

“Not my fault _Opa_ is personally offended that I don’t speak it.”

“Your Grandfather likes to show you off.” Grant marked off something on a page, turned it over, and then looked up at her. Quiet laughter danced in his eyes. “Plus he wants you to have something in common with him.”

“And I get in less trouble for cussing at school because nobody knows what I’m saying,” she giggled. The yawn broke into her amusement. “Oops. ‘Scuse me.”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Not enough.” 

“So take a nap.” Grant pointed towards a couch. It should have looked out of place in the office, but it worked here. “It’s comfortable, trust me. Marina’s made me use it more than once when she decided I needed a break.”

“But I’m supposed to be doing my Latin,” she pointed out. “Not to mention keeping a watch on you.”

“Shut your eyes, _Sestrenka_ ,” he chuckled. “I promise I’ll wake you up if I have to leave the office.”

“You better.” She wrinkled her nose at him before curling up on the couch. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift as she tried to shut down her brain. It took a few minutes, but at last she could feel sleep pulling at her. Silence would have bothered her, but the soft sounds of paper shuffling and Grant tapping at the tablet soothed her. Her final thoughts dropped away as she sank into the comfort of dreams.

Too bad they didn’t stay dreams.

Since the altercation at S.H.I.E.L.D., she’d seen an uptick in dark dreams. No surprise really, but she could have done without the disturbed nights. For the most part they stayed in the ‘what if’ territory – as in ‘what if she’d lost control and killed the guy’. It made her touchy and irritable in the mornings . . . even if Inari would ask how anyone could tell. So Dacia wasn’t a morning person; sue her. Sometimes though, sometimes the darkness would sink its claws into her subconscious.

And then the **real** nightmare would begin…

Her shoulders hurt. 

Leaning her forehead against the smooth wood, she felt the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. With her arms stretched high over her head, chained to the top of the pole, she couldn’t turn around. Her own weakness from lack of food prevented her from relieving the pressure by pulling herself up. Aches and throbbing pain delineated the bruises she knew colored her back. She didn’t smell blood . . . but Damien wouldn’t want her scarred. No marks would be allowed to mar her skin – they might reduce her value to him. 

Someone moved her hair and Dacia trembled.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

The menace in Damien’s voice sent a shaft of fear through her. It turned into a cold slide of ice as he touched a fingertip to the nape of her neck. He pressed down hard before tracing down her naked spine, drawing a whimper from her . . . at both the pain and his touch. Hot breath all but scalded the chilled skin at the point where her shoulder flowed into her neck – or maybe she only imagined the burn as he pressed into her, his hands moving to clasp her waist. 

“Maybe this time you’ll behave.”

Dacia yanked herself out of the nightmare as a growling scream ripped itself free from her throat. She rolled onto the floor, crouching in a state of almost full woge. The red haze filled her gaze as she searched for the threat, her mind still caught between waking and sleeping. 

She scented her brother before she saw him, the scent of vetiver wrapping around her. “Dacia?” His voice soothed her and she tilted her head as the haze began to recede. But then the door began to open. Her lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Is everything okay in here?”

Something about the voice sounded familiar, but she didn’t care. Anyone and anything could be a threat to her family. Blonde, statuesque, deadly . . . she knew this woman. Friendly . . . Dangerous . . . Dacia’s instincts pulled her in two different directions and she went still, her body preparing for fight or flight.

“Not now, Vika,” her brother snapped out. “Let me handle this.”

“Call me if you need me,” the woman ordered, but stepped back.

When the door closed again, she let herself relax back to watchfulness. Grant stepped closer and she huffed at him. Not a threat – she knew him, recognized the scent, but she didn’t feel calm enough to verbalize that. He knew her too – so he ignored the grumpy noise. Reaching down, he curled his hands around her arms and pulled her up stand in front of him. She shifted, not quite comfortable with her exposed position, but then he pulled her into his arms. With his warmth and strength surrounding her, she felt her instincts start to settle. 

_Pack._

_Family._

_Brother._

_Grant._

_Secure._

One long hard shake rattled through her before she collapsed against him. Fingers curling into his jacket, she buried her face into his chest. His arms tightened and she felt the brush of a kiss over the top of her head. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop the sobs, no matter how much she tried to choke them back. Like Vincent, Grant meant safety to her – and her subconscious knew she needed the release. He swept her up into his arms before sitting on the couch with her curled on his lap. Dacia didn’t know how long they sat there, but he waited, patient and calm, until she settled down. “Damien,” she whispered, knowing that would tell him everything he needed to know. “It was Damien. He had me.”

“Not anymore, little sister. He’s long gone – and I’ll burn anyone else that tries.” She sniffled and his arms tightened around her. “I’m taking you home.”

“Don’t want to be seen,” she muttered into his shoulder. 

“Let me worry about that.”

So she did. How he got them both downstairs and out of the building without being intercepted, she didn’t know. Not that she thought they’d escaped notice. Vika knew she’d had an episode and security would have seen them leaving. Somebody would have spotted her red-rimmed eyes. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Yeah, she knew she should and eventually would, but she didn’t want to do it right now. 

At least Grant seemed to get it – he didn’t even broach the idea.

“I don’t want to see anyone right now,” Dacia admitted as he guided the jeep towards the Grimm house. “It’s too . . . fresh? I can still feel him . . . it . . . all of it. It’s right under my skin, scratching and crawling.” She felt the woge change her features as the red filled her vision, but she fought it back. “I can’t…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. Curling her legs up, she wrapped her arms around them in spite of the seatbelt. When the house came into view, she buried her face in her knees. “Do I have too?”

“We’re not going into the main house.” 

Turning her head so her cheek rested on one knee, she focused her tear-filled gaze on him. “We’re not?”

“You’re still tired,” he began.

“Like I could sleep **now**?” 

He gave her a mild look of reproof at her scoff. “I seem to recall you guarding me from nightmares,” he reminded her. “Any reason you don’t think I can do it for you?”

“You’d have fried Damien.”

“If I hadn't been incapacitated and met you then,” Grant began, only to pause. He shook his head. “No, actually I **wouldn’t** have fried him.” She stared at him as he glanced over at her. Small flames danced in his whiskey-colored eyes. “I'd have roasted him.” A wicked mischief glittered behind the fire. “It's a slower, more thorough cooking.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but effective . . . and probably satisfying.” He parked the jeep. “Come on, we’re going through the back entrance.”

Never one to be shy, when he led her to the little apartment the family installed for him in the basement, Dacia went straight to the bed. All but falling on to it, she curled into a ball. Scents of the family filled the room and she drew them in with a sigh of relief. Grant, Sam, Marina, Will, Brian . . . and her own – they painted a picture of home, den and pack. 

“I don’t know how you ended up with a side in **my** bed,” he teased in a good-natured grumble as he stretched his legs out beside her. 

She felt his hand brush down her hair, encouraging her to relax. After a few minutes, she managed to stretch out and rolled over to face him. He sat up, back against the headboard with one knee pulled up as a prop for a book. “Definitely a Robonerd.” Her chuckle turned into a yawn.

He tugged on a lock of her hair. “You need some rest.”

“I’m not sleeping.”

“ _Sestrenka_...” Sorrow and determination gleamed in his eyes. Reaching down, he pulled her closer until her forehead rested against his leg. “You don’t have to sleep, but you do need rest. Close your eyes and just rest. I can read to you if you want.”

“You’d have to start over,” she reminded him, shifting so she could look up at him. “I don’t know the book.”

“Then I’ll start over.” His thumb rubbed over her cheek in a soft, gentle sweep. “I don’t mind.”

“I guess…”

“Close your eyes and just listen. If you fall asleep, I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

Surrendering to the resolution in his face, she curled as close as possible and closed her eyes. Warmth emanated from him as she heard the pages of his book turn.

“The primroses were over,” he read. “Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog’s mercury and oak-tree roots.”

Her breathing deepened as she listened to Grant read his story. Dacia could feel sleep dragging her under, but she tried to fight it . . . until his hand began brushing down her hair again. Between the softness of the bed, the sound of his voice, and the warmth of him surrounding her, she almost tumbled into the waiting darkness. 

But then . . . her stomach growled. 

Grant gave a soft snort of laughter as he closed his book. “Looks like sleep might need to take a number to feeding you, Wildcat.” She wrinkled her nose as she blinked open heavy eyes. He smiled down at her. “I know you don’t want to see anyone, _sestrenka_ , but you haven’t eaten since breakfast either.” As her lips pulled into a pouting grimace, he shook his head. “We don’t have to go up. Why don’t I text Marina? She’s home today anyway . . . and probably knew the minute we got here.”

“She probably knew the minute we left the office,” Dacia corrected. “Vika’s fast with her phone.” She chewed on the end of a lock of hair. He pulled it away. “Yeah, I could eat.” When he cocked an amused eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I can **always** eat. I’ve got a fast metabolism . . . and who turns down bacon?”

“Certainly not you.”

As he began texting, she pulled herself to a sitting position, mirroring his own by leaning against the headboard. Her eyes skimmed around the room and lingered on the mural. She loved the stylized animals that decorated his walls. One day she would get Steve to do one for her too . . . or something like it anyway. It would have her Pack – because one day there would be more than just the Foursome, she knew that in her bones – and her new family, all the way out to the extended. Sure, she wanted the symbolism of all that protection and safety around her, but more than that . . . she wanted to be reminded every time she went to sleep and every time she woke up – she belonged.

“Marina’s already cooking,” Grant chuckled as he put his phone down. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. She’ll be here in a few minutes.” 

“Cool.” Shifting over, she burrowed into his side. “You could read a little more . . . just ‘til she gets here?” Although the book had bothered her at first, the story of the little rabbit coming a little too close to her own situation earlier that day, she liked the way the older one took him seriously and acted on his words.

“Now who’s the nerd?” 

Dacia poked at him. “Just read the book, _Maulwurf_ ,” she huffed.

“I’m reading,” he laughed as she poked him again. “I’m reading.” He picked up the book and opened it. Curling his arm around her shoulders, he picked up where he left off. “It was evening once more and Hazel and Fiver were feeding outside the wood with two friends. Blackberry, the rabbit with the tipped ears who had been startled by Fiver the night before, had listened carefully to Hazel’s description of the notice board, remarking that he had always felt sure that men left these things about to act as signs or messages of some kind, in the same way that rabbits left marks on runs and gaps. It was another neighbor, Dandelion, who had now brought the talk back to the Threarah and his indifference to Fiver’s fear.”

The sound of steps outside the door brought both their heads up. Grant dropped the book and a gun appeared in his hand as if conjured there. Before either of them could move, they heard Marina’s cheerful voice calling out.

“Dinner!”

Color dusted over Grant’s cheeks as he tucked the gun away. “Overreacted,” he muttered.

“Just a little,” she laughed as the door opened. 

Marina walked in with a small tray. “Time to eat,” she announced. “Especially if your stomach is growling,” she added with a quick grin at Dacia. “I’m not sure my kitchen will handle you if we let you get too ravenous.”

“Your kitchen handles **everybody** ,” Dacia protested through her giggles.

“Not the night before the grocery delivery.”

“Point.” Another yawn interrupted her continued giggles. “’Scuse me.”

“Food, then bed,” Marina decided. She put the tray on the bed and uncovered it. “Bacon, avocado, and cheese for you; brie and prosciutto for _Prizrak_ ; and a Reuben for me.”

“You’re eating with us?” Grant lifted his eyebrows as he reached for his. “What about the others?”

“Misha’s stuck at headquarters for a while,” she replied. “I’ve got my boys and Inari watching the girls and they’ve got plenty for now.” She reached out to touch Dacia’s cheek. “Vincent and Catherine know you’re with us, so they won’t worry. Now, eat.”

Dinner passed in a bit of a blur as Marina talked business with Grant, apparently both thrilled **and** unhappy that he would soon be back at full health. She didn’t want him working with Garrett anymore and tried to talk him into requesting a transfer. He sidestepped the idea. Dacia got the idea that he’d like nothing more than to get away from the jackass, but felt he needed to stay with him so they had someone keeping an eye on everything.

“ _Prizrak_ , we can get intel some other way,” Marina chided. “We don’t have to risk **you** all the time.”

"I was trained for this,” he reminded her. “If not me then who are you going to trust enough to keep eyes on him?"

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Full and growing sleepy again, Dacia curled up beside them. Her eyes drooped as she watched the two of them have their friendly argument. Between the sound of their voices and their scents, her earlier fear couldn’t dig its claws into her. She closed her eyes, still listening to Marina’s fussing and Grant’s evasions.

“I want to win this one!” Marina protested.

"Marina.” Grant shook his head at her. “You know as well as I do, wanting to win doesn't mean anything in the face of the right choice."

With the tiniest of giggles, Dacia let go and drifted to sleep, safe under the protection of her family and pack. One day she would be the alpha of her own Pack, but for now, she could let someone else take care of her.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
>  _Opa_ \- German - Grandpa  
>  _Sestrenka_ \- Russian - sister  
>  _Prizrak_ \- Russian - ghost


End file.
